


So Damn Lucky

by ActuallyRocketRaccoon



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Panic Attacks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-09-08
Updated: 2014-09-08
Packaged: 2018-02-16 14:23:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2273109
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ActuallyRocketRaccoon/pseuds/ActuallyRocketRaccoon
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rocket suffers from panic attacks. Thankfully, Groot is there to help him get through them.</p>
            </blockquote>





	So Damn Lucky

**Author's Note:**

> Slight trigger warning if you suffer from anxiety/panic attacks (like me). To be honest, I had a tough time writing the first part of this, but I think it turned out well.

It should have been nothing. Just a health check-up, just a Nova Corps doctor testing his reflexes and shining a flashlight in his eyes, making sure he was still all functional and shit. Rocket tries to tell himself that between gasping breaths, tries to steady his limbs and stop his tail from trembling like a goddamn leaf, but it wasn’t helping. _Nothing_ was helping, damn it. One look at the towering Xandarian doctor, with his tinted goggles and his pristine white coat, and Rocket had felt the panic setting in. He remembers the last time he saw a coat like that, pockets bristling with needles and charts and pens and _needles_. He still remembers his claws digging into that disgusting white fabric, the red blood oozing out and staining it in the most satisfying way… and he still remembers the consequences. Five tranquilizers: One needle in each arm, two in his haunches, and a large vacuum tube of some gas or another hooked up to the cybernetics in his chest and pumped straight into his lungs. The last thing he’d seen then, as the darkness closed in around him, was the dark lab goggles and the curious white coats pushing and shoving to gawk down at his limp form.

Rocket can feel the same darkness closing in now, a fading at the edge of his eyes that reduced his vision to a thin tunnel. The only thing the raccoon could see was his own shaking hands, clenched between his knees in a futile attempt to steady himself. He tries to find comfort in his surroundings: the familiar, grungy walls of his quarters aboard the Milano, the thrum of the engines, the way the sheets on his cot give way when he curls his toes into them. None of it helps. The Nova doctors had been here, in his room, with their lab coats and glasses and chemical smells. They're _still_ here, somehow, Rocket can feel their presence, lingering in the corners and watching him.

He had chased the man out, of course. As soon as he felt the familiar tightening of his breath, the lump building in his throat, Rocket had ordered the doctor to leave the ship. He had tried to be calm, tried to be rational, but his words had come out a strangled scream: "You need to GET OUT!" The doctor had asked what was wrong, how he could help, but all Rocket could do was wave him away, desperate, rocking back and forth and clenching his jaws till they hurt, tears brimming in his eyes as he shook his head in terrified refusal.

It had taken Rocket three tries to form words through his gasping sobs. “Le… lea… LEAVE. NOW.” He had nearly held it together, nearly stifled the terror long enough for the doctor to turn away, to not see him fall apart. But as soon as the words were spat out of his choked throat, the dam opened, giving way to loud, desperate howls and incoherent screaming. The doctor had fled, and just like the cowardly bastard too, to run away when Rocket was defenseless on the floor, shaking and gasping for air, and how dare that stupid fucking _asshole_ just _leave_ him here, couldn’t he see he was _dying_ , couldn’t he see that rocket needed _help_ couldn’t he – Rocket had asked him to leave. He knew that. But somehow, in some way, this had to be that flarking doctor’s fault. Because Rocket wasn’t to blame, oh no, he was a helpless victim here, trapped in his own body with no way to escape and no way to stop the constant flow of tears and screams and he couldn’t breathe he couldn’t breathe at all he was choking he was dying he had to GET OUT…

There is a knock at the door.

Rocket looks up from where he is curled on his cot. He had barely made it there, trembling and sobbing and trying too hard to be silent because no one could see him like this, no one could understand this, no one knew him and who the fuck did they think they are if they thought that they did… they’re still knocking.

Rocket manages to choke out a strangled “Wh- what?” and the door creaks open, revealing Quill’s worried face. Rocket tries baring his teeth, but his breath fails and he has to open his mouth in a rattling gasp instead. And suddenly Quill is beside him, face too close, hands everywhere; Rocket’s shoulders, his back, rubbing and patting and trying to calm him down and how the FUCK does he think that would work, he’s just another goddamned humie freak poking and prodding and any moment now there’s gonna be needles and sedations and torture and Rocket is frozen, he can’t do anything, he can only scream and shake his head furiously and force his stiff, shaking hands to scrabble at Peter’s clothes and beg him to go away.

He forces out words as fast as he can, still stuttering between hyperventilated gasps. “I’m… It’s… fine just… just go away im okay I don’t need… help… shit please… this always happens it’s okay I’m okay I…”

Peter is still too close. “Are you sure, man? ‘Cause I can get you some water or something, just tell me what to do, that’s what friends are for, right? Here, I’ll—”

Rocket screams, a long, drawn-out snarl, ending in a choked-off sob. “JUST GO AWAY!”

And suddenly, Quill is gone, though not by choice. A huge, wooden hand scoops him up and deposits the Terran outside Rocket’s room, closing the door gently behind him. Rocket peeps out from his tiny, hyperventilating ball, and Groot is there, smiling his familiar, serene smile, holding out one large hand. Rocket almost smiles, before another wracking sob shakes him. Groot. Shit. Of course Groot would know what to do. Groot, who never demanded answers or forced solutions, who always went along with Rocket’s crazy schemes and protected him from all the fucked-up shit the world forced on him. Groot, who if Rocket wasn’t so damn scared he may even admit was the love of his tiny, pathetic, genetically fucked-up life.

Rocket holds out his arms like a child, not bothering to be ashamed of his trembling lips, or his heaving chest, or the tears matting the fur on his face and neck. And Groot doesn’t tease him for it; he does not know the words for being unkind, and even if he did, he would never dare to use them now. The Flora Colossus simply scoops his mate into his arms and pulls him close to his chest before settling against the wall of the small cabin. He sets Rocket down, still trembling, and the raccoon digs his tiny claws into the bark of Groot’s chest. The other rumbles reassuringly and cups one hand around his companion’s back, anchoring him lightly enough that the raccoon could still get out of the embrace, if he so chose. Rocket settles into Groot’s light grip and watches as the tree opens the bark plates of his back and grows his vines around the pair of them in a large, circular cocoon. There is enough room for the raccoon to move freely, and Groot has built his shelter around his own body as well, so that the tree’s arms and legs are tucked safely inside. Though he knows it’s illogical, Rocket is relieved; the doctors that plague his nightmares cannot hurt his friend in here.

Rocket sighs, a huge, shuddering intake of breath, and exhales a soft, trembling noise. It is half sob, half laugh, and Groot smiles. He reaches up one huge hand to stroke Rocket’s cheek, and the raccoon snorts, trying in vain to recapture a little of his dignity.

“Thanks, you big log,” he mutters. Groot’s smile widens, and he opens his palms slowly, the bark plates shifting to release a myriad of tiny, golden spores. They fill the little shelter with a soft light, and Rocket feels his throat tightening once more.

Groot makes a high-pitched whine of confusion when his companion starts crying again; were the spores not a good thing? Did they bring back bad memories for his mate? But Rocket just laughs through his tears and clambers up to plant a soft, damp kiss on Groot’s mouth. “I’m not sad, dumbass,” the raccoon assures him. And he’s not. This is the most amazing thing anyone's ever done for him. Rocket remembers countless attacks spent hiding in trash barrels and back alleyways, curled around himself and biting his arms till they bleed, trying desperately to muffle the sounds of his terror. And now Groot is here, and he’s warm and safe and _perfect_ , and Rocket couldn’t be luckier if he had the entire Nova Corps armada at his command. He curls up against Groot’s chest and waits for the sobbing to subside and his breath to come back.

Rocket crawls out of his little Groot-bubble a while later, just to grab a transmitter to dismantle. Even the few minutes it takes to find the right tools in his kit are enough for the panic to start rising again, and by the time he dives back into Groot’s safety net, his arms full of screwdrivers and wires, Rocket is gasping for air and his eyes prickle with tears. Groot scoops him up without hesitation, pressing light kisses to his face and shoulders. “I am Groot,” the colossus assures him softly.

“Yeah, you’re right,” Rocket mutters, scrubbing his eyes with the back of his hand, “I’m okay now. All thanks to you.”

“I am Groot?”

“Don’t be an idiot. You’re the only thing gets me through this shit.”

“ _We_ are Groot.”

“Love you too, ya big sap.”

They spend the rest of the day inside Groot’s protective vine-bubble, Rocket fiddling with his transmitter and Groot growing flowers from the palms of his hands. He weaves them through Rocket’s tail, humming happily, and strokes his mate’s head gently in between. Rocket stops crying, his breathing evens out, and eventually the dry, gasping sobs cease altogether. As the little raccoon calms down, Groot’s spores flicker out one by one. When Rocket seems content in the semi-darkness, with only a few golden wisps remaining, Groot moves to unravel their little shelter and rejoin the rest of the world. As the first vines unfurl, Rocket puts his tools down and turns to face his mate. “Don’t.”

Groot tilts his head in confusion, but Rocket just scampers up his chest to rest in the curve of his collarbone. He leans in and kisses the colossus deeply, his tongue flickering along the soft bark of Groot’s lips. “Just… wait, okay? Just a few more minutes. I wanna enjoy this a little longer.”

Groot hums happily, and Rocket can feek him smile against his mouth. The huge tree leans into the raccoon’s kiss, his lips moving softly against his mate’s. They stay like that for a long while, Rocket wrapped in Groot’s arms, basking in each other’s presence. Rocket sighs deeply when he pulls away, and his partner lets out a mournful whine.

The raccoon laughs. “Sorry babe, but we should probably join the others. Quill was pretty worried, and I do feel kinda shitty for yelling at him like that.”

“I am Groot.”

“That’s no excuse. These dumbass attacks are no reason to be an ass to my friends.”

“I AM Groot.”

“What d’you mean, I’m _learning_? Sometimes I think you just stick around to tease me!”

“Hmmmm… I am Groot.”

“Yeah, yeah, no need to get corny on me. Jeez… you’re such a dumb log—”

“I am Groot!”

“And if you’d let me finish, I was about to say how damn lucky I was I fell in love with you! Or maybe I wasn’t, but now you’ll never know. “

With Rocket laughing and Groot humming indignantly, the pair stretches and stands, ready to rejoin their team. Rocket grins at his mate. He really is a lucky bastard.

**Author's Note:**

> So there you have it. I basically saw Groot's little vine-shelter thing in GotG and thought 'wow, that would be a really nice place to work through an attack..' And thus this was born! Please let me know what you thought of it!


End file.
